


Not So Secret

by piratesPencil



Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Backstory, Canon Disabled Character, Cuddling, Established Relationship, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25515970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piratesPencil/pseuds/piratesPencil
Summary: But telling his story to Dagur didn’t feel like bragging. It felt like revealing a part of himself to a person who had, somehow, shockingly, become unbelievably important to him.Hiccup tells Dagur about how he lost his leg.
Relationships: Dagur the Deranged/Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III
Comments: 6
Kudos: 137





	Not So Secret

Dinner had ended hours ago, but they were still lazing around the clubhouse, drinking and chatting. Slowly, by ones and twos, the other riders had wandered off to bed. Only Hiccup, Dagur and Tuffnut were left now, picking at the last of the cod that Heather had cooked, tossing scraps to Toothless who was curled up near Hiccup’s feet.

“Well, I think it’s time for me to hit the hay, my good men,” Tuffnut said, standing up with a yawn. He clapped Dagur on the shoulder and said, “Tomorrow morning I’ll be introducing you to Chicken’s extended family, so make sure you’re up bright and early for that.”

“You know I will be,” Dagur said, nodding seriously, and Hiccup honestly couldn’t tell if he was messing with Tuff or not.

“Perfect,” Tuffnut said, then turned to Hiccup. He bowed deeply, and began walking backwards out of the clubhouse, still bent over in a bow. “Farewell and goodnight, my one-legged leader!” he called, his voice fading as he left the clubhouse and disappeared into the night outside.

Hiccup rolled his eyes, and turned to see Dagur frowning at the doorway.

“What was that about?” Dagur asked, standing up from where he’d been sitting across the table from Hiccup.

“What, Tuffnut? Who knows. I gave up trying to figure out what goes on in the twins’ heads years ago,” Hiccup said. He scooted over on the bench, making room for Dagur to slide up beside him and wrap an arm around his shoulders. He tossed another cod scrap at Toothless, settling in against Dagur’s side.

It was late, but between leading the dragon riders and chiefing Berserker Island, Hiccup and Dagur didn’t get to see each other nearly as often as they wanted to. Hiccup was prepared to stay up all night for some time alone together.

It wasn’t like Hiccup’s relationship with Dagur was a _secret_ , exactly. If it was up to Dagur, they’d never take their hands off each other, regardless of who was watching. But Hiccup felt like what they had was still new, still vulnerable. He didn’t know how to tell the other riders that he and Dagur had somehow gone from tense allies to genuine friends to… something _more_ , but he knew that they could tell, even if he did keep the affection to a minimum around them.

Someday, he’d be ready to tell his friends what Dagur meant to him, though he wasn’t sure he’d even really figured that out for himself yet.

“Doesn’t it make you mad, though?” Dagur asked, shaking Hiccup from his thoughts.

“What? Tuff bowing at me?” Or maybe Dagur meant all the Chicken talk. Tuff’s obsession with that bird didn’t make Hiccup _mad_ , but it definitely got annoying sometimes.

“ _One-legged leader_ ,” Dagur said, miming quotation marks in the air with his free hand. “Having your subordinate mock your weaknesses like that.”

“Okay, first off, Tuffnut’s not my _subordinate_ ,” Hiccup said, imitating Dagur’s air quotes. “And my leg’s not a _weakness_. It’s…” He shrugged, looking down at his metal leg.

What _was_ his prosthetic? He didn’t think of it as an _advantage_ , not really. It was hard to call it an advantage when his leg still haunted him with phantom pains sometimes, or with the everyday ache that came from bad weather or wearing his prosthetic for too long. And although there had been rare times when having a detachable leg had actually come in handy, it wasn’t worth the sinking, helpless feeling that came from knowing that his enemies had such an easy way to take away his mobility, his independence.

But it didn’t feel right to call it a weakness, either. Was it a battle scar, then? A quirk? Four years was a long time—long enough that Hiccup’s prosthetic really just felt like a part of him, nothing more, nothing less.

Hiccup shrugged, still leaning against Dagur’s side. “I’m not bothered,” he told Dagur, and it was the truth. “My friends make jokes about my leg all the time. _I_ make jokes about my leg. It bothered me more when I was younger and I’d just lost it, but I’m just used to it now, I guess.”

The jokes and comments about his leg _had_ bothered Hiccup more when he was younger, back when both the literal and psychological wound were still so fresh. But there had also been far fewer jokes back then.

Hiccup had never really thought about it before, but it seemed like, as the years passed and he grew more comfortable with his prosthetic, his friends had grown more comfortable, too. There had been a time when everyone seemed to avoid mentioning Hiccup’s leg, as though ignoring it made it less real. That was how Hiccup had felt for a while, at least—he’d decided, mostly subconsciously, that the best way to deal with losing a limb was to pretend that he hadn’t lost it at all.

He’d made a lot of stupid choices back then, though—pushing himself even when it hurt, sleeping with his prosthetic on far more often than he did now, refusing to let Gobber make any adjustments to it because he was so desperate to never take it off, especially in front of other people.

Some nasty blisters that had turned into nasty infections had finally pushed him into taking better care of his leg, but what had really changed things was, ultimately, time. The more time passed, the more Hiccup grew used to the idea that his prosthetic _wasn’t_ the same as his leg. He didn’t have to pretend that nothing had changed.

_Everything_ in his life had changed after he’d faced the Red Death—Berk had changed, his relationship with Stoick had changed, his social standing within the tribe and his friendships with the other riders had changed, and _he’d_ changed, mentally and physically. _All_ of those changes had taken time to adjust to, and although the loss of his leg had taken a little bit more time than the rest of those changes, he’d adjusted to that, too, eventually.

In all honesty, Hiccup hadn’t even noticed Tuffnut calling him his _one-legged leader_ , any more than he would have noticed any other silly thing Tuff could have called him. Because that was how Hiccup thought of _himself_ , too. One-legged, peg leg—descriptors that would have made him wildly uncomfortable a few years ago felt utterly natural now.

Hiccup was tall, and sort of lanky. He had brown hair, a few scars, a _lot_ of freckles, and he had one leg. It was just a fact.

Dagur still hadn’t said anything. He was regarding Hiccup curiously, now, shredding some flaky leftover cod skin between his fingers with the hand that wasn’t draped over Hiccup’s shoulder.

“What?” Hiccup asked, noticing the weight of Dagur’s gaze.

“Are you ever going to tell me how you lost your leg?” Dagur asked, letting the cod skin fall onto the plate in front of him.

Hiccup’s eyes widened. “I’ve never told you?” he asked in genuine surprise. Beside him, Toothless lifted his head and warbled slightly, as though he was surprised by Dagur’s question, too.

Dagur shook his head. “It never really came up,” he said. “In retrospect, I should have been more curious that first time, when I showed up on Berk and realized you were _missing a limb_. But I think we can all agree I wasn’t really thinking straight back then.” He shrugged casually. “And then we were enemies, and we didn’t really have time for a polite chat, and… here we are, I guess.”

“Wow,” Hiccup said, and he realized in that moment that he’d never actually had to tell anyone the story of how he’d lost his leg. Everyone on Berk already knew… almost everyone on Berk had _been_ there when it happened. And the friends he’d made since then—Heather, Mala, Dagur—had never asked.

“Short version?” Hiccup said, leaning back and resting a hand on Toothless’ head, almost unconsciously. “We fought a big dragon. Like, a _really_ big dragon. And we won, but the only reason I survived is because this guy saved me… Most of me.”

Dagur glanced between Hiccup and Toothless, brows slightly furrowed. “Is that how he lost the tailfin, too?”

Hiccup laughed slightly. Of course Dagur wouldn’t know this part of the story, either.

“No,” Hiccup said. “The tailfin is my fault, actually.”

At that, Dagur’s eyes widened hugely. “ _You_ hurt a Night Fury? _This_ Night Fury?”

Toothless warbled again and nodded his head, and Hiccup laughed.

“Okay,” Hiccup said. “Maybe I’ll give you the long version.”

He settled more comfortably against Dagur, turning so his back was against Dagur’s chest, and he realized in surprise that he was _excited_ to tell Dagur this story.

Hiccup had never really wanted to be the conquering warrior type. Too much attention made his skin crawl. Even after the fight with the Red Death, when things were looking up for dragons on Berk, there had been more than one occasion when Hiccup had been tempted to just pack up his stuff, get on Toothless’ back, and fly away from his responsibilities and his fame.

But telling his story to Dagur didn’t feel like bragging. It felt like revealing a part of himself to a person who had, somehow, shockingly, become unbelievably important to him. He wanted Dagur to know his past, every little detail of it, not just the things he’d done but how he felt about them.

He wanted Dagur to know how incredible his first flight with Toothless had felt, wanted Dagur to understand how fully he’d been prepared to die during the fight with the Red Death, wanted Dagur to know the sinking, dreamlike feeling that had washed over him when he’d woken up and realized what the Red Death had cost him.

And as he spun his tale for Dagur, he started to realize why it didn’t really bother him when his friends—even his enemies—made comments about his missing leg. He’d spent so much of his childhood being called a runt, a mistake, a hiccup—sometimes jokingly, but too often seriously. Those words had cut deep. Even though he’d tried to laugh it off, he’d felt it like a knife in his side. For his whole childhood, he’d known he was small, and weak, and useless, and not at all the Viking his dad wanted. Even now, if people called him scrawny or small, it still hit him like a punch.

But his leg was different. When people pointed out his leg, it didn’t draw attention to what he _couldn’t_ do, to his status as the village runt. It reminded him of what he _had_ done—he’d fought the Red Death and survived. He’d led a ragtag group of teenage dragon riders on a suicide mission and he hadn’t lost a single one of them.

He’d made a _choice_ to fight the Red Death, even if it killed him, and it was one of the biggest choices he’d ever made. He wasn’t ashamed of that choice, and he wasn’t ashamed of what had come of it.

* * *

When Hiccup’s story wound to a close, he sat up, pulling away from Dagur so that he could see the other Viking’s face. Dagur’s hand slid from Hiccup’s shoulder to his wrist, and then he knotted their fingers together. The fire was burning low in the hearth now, and shadows played across Dagur’s face as he regarded Hiccup.

“I knew something big must have happened,” he said, squeezing Hiccup’s hand. “Not just because you lost the leg, but because everyone was treating you differently. You went from the weird kid no one wanted to hang out with—”

“Ouch,” Hiccup said sarcastically, although he knew Dagur was right.

“—to some kind of leader. And I had no idea why, but I felt it, too. You know, I always knew you were chief material, Hiccup, even when we were little. That’s why I was always trying to toughen you up.”

“Sure, _toughen me up_ ,” Hiccup parroted, rolling his eyes.

“What!” Dagur said defensively. “That’s what I was doing! That’s what I thought I was doing, anyways. I realize now that my methods may have been… extreme.”

Hiccup laughed, and Dagur pressed on. “But I showed up on Berk that year, ready to push you around a little and get you up to my chiefly level—”

Hiccup laughed again, and Dagur shoved him playfully with his shoulder, their hands still intertwined.

“As I was _saying_ ,” he continued. “I thought I was gonna have to toughen you up some more, but you were so _different_ , Hiccup. Everyone was treating you differently, and you were so much more sure of yourself, and you saved me from a Night Fury! I mean, you actually tricked me, but I guess that was impressive in its own way.”

“Not like it was hard,” Hiccup said cheekily, and Dagur shoved him again.

“Point is, I knew _something_ big happened,” Dagur said. “But I never would have guessed _how_ big. I’d think you were making the whole thing up, except… I’ve seen you do some pretty crazy stuff with my own eyes. If anyone could disown their tribe, face a dragon queen and survive with honour, it’s you, Hiccup.”

Now Hiccup felt embarrassed. “You make it sound more impressive than it was,” Hiccup said, shifting in his seat. “I was barely holding it together from the moment I met Toothless to the moment I stared down the Red Death. I didn’t know _what_ I was doing.”

“That makes it _more_ impressive,” Dagur insisted. “You were a _kid_ and you did what no adult Viking ever did, Hiccup. Gods, no wonder I’m in love with you.”

Hiccup’s heart leapt up into his throat. It wasn’t the first time that Dagur had said that word— _love._ Dagur was a shockingly affectionate person, pouring just as much passion into loving the people he cared about as he’d once poured into pursuing the people he hated—the very same people, in most cases. It shouldn’t have surprised Hiccup, to hear Dagur say _I’m in love with you_.

But it felt different, somehow, coming on the heels of Hiccup laying his past bare in front of Dagur. It wasn’t a secret past—after all, almost everyone he knew was aware of Hiccup’s heroic history—but it was the first time Hiccup had had to talk about his past in his own words, and it had left him feeling breathless and strangely raw.

Dagur seemed to notice Hiccup’s hesitation. He slid his hand out of Hiccup’s so that he could grab both of Hiccup’s shoulders and pull Hiccup against himself, his chest to Hiccup’s back again. He pressed a kiss to the top of Hiccup’s head, and spoke in a voice that was unusually soft for Dagur. “You know I’m in love with you, right, Hiccup?” he said. “Hell, even when I hated you, I was in love with you.”

“I know,” Hiccup said, and he did know. He might not have understood it, exactly, back when he and Dagur probably would have killed each other if given the chance. But he’d always known that Dagur was strangely obsessed with him, and though he wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, he’d always been a little bit obsessed with Dagur, too.

He felt like he should say it back, should tell Dagur that he was in love with him, too. But was he? Hiccup didn’t know. How did you know if you were in love with someone?

He knew he wanted this—to be held by Dagur, and to hold him. He wanted to kiss Dagur. He wanted to do more than that—he _had_ done more than that, and he would again. Maybe they would tonight, when the hearth burned low and they finally headed back to Hiccup’s hut, just a little buzzed from the drinks and the words they’d shared.

Did that mean that Hiccup was in love?

“You don’t have to say it back,” Dagur said, when Hiccup stayed silent. He pressed another kiss to the top of Hiccup’s head, pulled Hiccup a little tighter against himself. “This is enough. You’re enough. More than enough.”

“Am I?” Hiccup asked skeptically, something like guilt clawing up his throat.

“You are,” Dagur insisted. “And I knew it before you even told me how much of a badass fifteen-year-old you were.”

“Hey! Current me is a badass, too,” Hiccup said, slipping into the comfort of snark.

“True,” Dagur said affectionately, not taking Hiccup’s bait. “I might not have been around to see what kind of a badass you were before, but I’m gonna be here to see what kind of a badass you become.”

“You’d better be,” Hiccup said, and he realized that he didn’t just want Dagur right now—he wanted Dagur by his side forever, wanted to see what kind of person Dagur would grow into, too.

So maybe he was in love. He still didn’t think he was ready to say those words, but he thought maybe Dagur could feel them anyways.

“I will be,” Dagur promised.

“Good,” he said, and he hoped that Dagur understood that that was a promise, too.


End file.
